


Showtime

by mizael



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Pendulum Week 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizael/pseuds/mizael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't matter how they show their affection, their admiration, their feelings of contentment and satisfaction, the hushed awe and quiet smiles. It never has to be kisses, touches, or pleased sighs, never has to be done in words, sentences, long phrases of different ways to say <i>I love you</i> when they both know already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showtime

**Author's Note:**

> first day and i'm already late oh my god slay me  
> for the prompt: showtime

There probably have been countless times they’ve held hands at a bus stop--Yuuya’s insistence that it’s fine if they wait in the cold, it’s a bit more romantic, you know, holding hands and waiting to go home together, sharing warmth and heat like penguins huddled in the winter, icy breaths escaping in a silent synchrony of exhales of white vapor that trail from their smiles. Reiji isn’t too sure on the cold, thinks it’s a bit much to have a moment when it’s below zero, but Yuuya’s hand is always warm against his own, grasping tight and never letting go, like the thought of losing him was too much to bear, and he relents.

And there were probably numerous other times when they’ve sat together in Yuuya’s dining room chair, a spread of general studies homework on the table, Yuuya trying so hard to lean back into Reiji’s chest to distract him from responsibilities but Reiji’s firm voice is there to remind him that _no, we have work_ (to be greeted with a soft whine which Reiji kisses away). At those times Yuuya pouts, whispers something about being unfair, and Reiji has the nerve to lean forward and take Yuuya’s hand, guiding it across the page with soft words that expel air on Yuuya’s neck.

Yuuya shivers, squirms on Reiji's lap, tries to turn his attention back to the homework laid in front of him as Reiji explains, but it's hard. It's hard when Reiji's mouth is right next to his ear, his larger hands grasping Yuuya's smaller ones, and his voice rolls in smooth baritones about the properties of theta, its functions, its formulas, the role this tiny symbol plays in the grand scheme of areas and volumes and Yuuya doesn't hear it at all. He tries to focus, eyes straining on the paper, lets Reiji guide his fingers to write in a handwriting that is much more elegant than his.

It's almost too much.

(the way Reiji’s breath expires on his skin, leaves in its wake a soft coolness that makes Yuuya want for more--heat, touch, love and whatever Reiji will give because Yuuya is happy to take, to return, to splash kisses all over his face until Reiji is as much of a mess as he is and then he will be happy)

\--It _is_ too much, especially when Reiji puts the pen down and pulls back, and Yuuya immediately feels the warmth on his spine leave him, the flustered nerves in his body begin to settle, but he doesn't want it to end. He's quick to turn around and press his lips to Reiji's own, hands grasping the front of his shirt and content exchange saliva until one of them needs to breathe. And then there are tongues on necks, mouths on collarbones, hands trailing up the ends of their shirts until Yuuya is flushed, red, body too hot, too much, yet too little.

Sometimes they make it to his bedroom, sometimes they compromise on the couch, but at the end of the day they sink into each other's bodies and worship the skin beneath their fingers, reverent and rushed, beautifully innocent and indecent all at once--Yuuya's sighs against the cushions, Reiji's heavy breaths, and their shared ecstasy.

It doesn't matter how they show their affection, their admiration, their feelings of contentment and satisfaction, the hushed awe and quiet smiles. It never has to be kisses, touches, or pleased sighs, never has to be done in words, sentences, long phrases of different ways to say _I love you_ when they both know already. It doesn’t have to be small, like the way Yuuya scoots closer to Reiji during a movie, or even something big, like Reiji’s invitation to Broadway and its actors, Yuuya feeling rushes of adrenaline as he stands on that empty stage to an empty hall, and--

“You’ll be here, one day,” Reiji says off to the side, shaking his head in tiny amused smiles when they walk out. The theatre is big, large and encompassing, with seats that stretch a second floor and echo with Yuuya’s shouts as he laughs on the stage, red eyes bright.

“Ladies and Gentlemen--!”

Reiji watches as Yuuya takes all he can from the stage, hoots and hollers and cartwheels and shouts of excitement that he releases with each breath. He’s on Broadway, although technically not yet still _on_ Broadway, but he’s here nonetheless, and Reiji honestly wouldn’t want for anything with the way Yuuya takes it all in with bursting happiness, boundless enthusiasm, and smiles that are directed every so often in his direction, filled to the brim with gratitude and love.

“Reiji,” he stops in his celebration to turn around, and Reiji waits for him to continue. Yuuya bounds over, grasps his wrists and tugs him more towards the middle of the platform. “Come on, stop standing around!”

He’s dragged center stage. “There’s hardly anything to do, Yuuya.”

Yuuya only grins at him, and then shucks his jacket off to a far corner of the stage, where it lands in a heap. Reiji raises his eyebrow.

“ _I can show you the world_ \--”

“Yuuya,” Reiji sighs, but Yuuya just smiles and slides over to his other side. Reiji follows him with his eyes, shaking his head with a mocking tilt of his lips. “Yuuya, honestly.”

“ _Shining, shimmering, splendid!_ ” Yuuya laughs, twirls in front of Reiji and then takes his hands to pull them up to his chest. “ _Tell me, princess, now when did you last let your heart decide?_ ”

“ _I can open your eyes_ ,” Reiji takes the hands grasping his and twirls Yuuya around again, to which Yuuya beams and easily moves along with his steps. “ _Take you wonder by wonder. Over, sideways and under on a magic carpet ride_.”

“ _A whole new world!_ ”

Somewhere along the line, Reiji throws off his jacket as well until they’re both drifting over the stage, hands locked in a mocking, makeshift parody of something a lot more romantic than two people moving in an untrained rhythm on stage, smiles and laughter and heartbeats to an invisible audience.

Reiji doesn’t smile as much as he lets Yuuya lead, lets Yuuya fill the room, lets Yuuya do what he wants when their bodies are flushed and sweating and yet still going. It happens like one of those cheesy romance novels that Shingo likes reading, likes to tell Reiji about when they’re in class together like “you really need to wind down” and “have you thought of getting a date?” when in reality Yuuya is reaching out to touch him, press his thumbs along his cheekbones, pulls him in until they’re nose-to-nose and Reiji can feel Yuuya’s breath on his face.

(Yuuya’s long lashes, ruby red eyes, soft skin that he’s close enough to see pores because Yuuya is a living, breathing, almost intangible beauty, and Reiji will worship like a dog at his heels if he so much as asked--if he so much as just tilted his head and _asked_ )

It descends from a whirlwind of movement--hands flying, bodies twirling, adrenaline pumping like gas through their system--to a slow and steady finale. One that has Reiji reaching out to cradle Yuuya’s waist, Yuuya’s hands on his shoulders, body bent backward in the middle of a dip, and the silent sound of their breathing as the music fades from their heads.

“Yuuya,” they’re both breathless, cheeks flushed in exhaustion and embarrassment, a sweaty mix of satisfaction and emptiness all at once.

“Reiji,” he’s smiling, and then he’s closer, and then they’re kissing on center stage like they’re some sort of young adult romance novel ending where the protagonist finally finds their center and Reiji thinks it’s far too close for comfort when it parallels so well. But Yuuya’s lips are soft and sweet, every time a different flavor that he never gets tired of because he doesn’t know how many times they have kissed and wanted, and he finds that he can’t care if this date is just some recreation of a cliche.

He leans in, Yuuya presses closer, and then their tongues are together, caressing and exploring and dancing like they were before they stopped. They part in a slow beat, half lidded eyes and half lidded hearts and fully willing to continue. He presses his mouth to the underside of Yuuya’s chin, drags his tongue down the expanse of his jugular, and Yuuya melts into his hold, shuddering with nails digging into his shoulders.

He doesn’t go farther than that, despite Yuuya’s low whine when he disconnects, and he just laughs instead and tells him that it’s late. Reiji loosens his grip, and Yuuya steers himself upright again. They grab their jackets from the far ends of the stage, still in a daze, and leave when the janitor tells them it’s time to close up.

Yuuya laughs and shrugs on his blazer when they move out of the auditorium, and the cold air greets them again in the form of silent city streets. “Thanks.”

“It’s not a problem,” Reiji takes out his phone and looks at the time: almost midnight. “We should get home soon. I can call a car.” He dials a number but Yuuya stops him.

“Nuh-uh, we’re not taking your car,” Yuuya instead takes his hand and leads him to the nearest bus stop, its red and blue sign standing innocently along the curb of a street. “We can sit here and wait for the bus like normal people.”

“Yuuya--”

He’s dragged into the booth and onto the cold metal seat, and Yuuya plops down next to him. Reiji sighs, but knows it’s a losing fight when Yuuya presses close against his arm, lets his head drop onto his shoulder, and they sit waiting for the last bus of the night.

Reiji feels like he should really be the one telling Yuuya _thanks_ , when he hasn’t had the chance to let loose in such a long time, when Yuuya’s smiles are all that brightens his day after a long period of work and study, when he sees their hands connected through the spaces between their fingers and he feels that sense of contentment. That sense of belonging, of fulfillment, of gratification and serenity. Of peace, order, justice.

Instead, he just chuckles, a low rumble at the base of his throat that Yuuya laughs at because _hey, that tickles_ , and Reiji is okay with waiting for the bus.

They’ll get on when it arrives, move to the back where it’s just them, and head home still high on each other’s presence, each other’s aura, each other’s happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> i survive on comments <3


End file.
